Death's A Company
by Geneivere StarryEyes
Summary: Grell Sutcliff is forced into seeing a psychiatrist and it's Hannibal Lector. He's the best of course, even if he does kill and eat people on his own time. Two killers in one room and it turn's out death's a company.
1. Entree for Thought

**I don't own Kuroshitsuji or Hannibal. I just play with them. Next chapter Grell has talk therapy with a Cannibal. **

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Grell Sutcliff sat with his legs crossed delicately, leaned deeply into the navy blue chair, head against the rest bored and indignant. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed together in annoyed thought. Ah! Why? Why was he sitting here? Waiting of course, but why was he waiting? Because Will said he had too or else … Or else what?

_…or else I will confiscate your death scythe and demote you to lowest level possible in the Association_.

Will had managed to sound a fraction righteously smug when he said that, all the while sounding like his usual boredly disdainful, officious self, all the while looking delicious in his crisp, creaseless black suit and those Shinigami spectacles and that glossy comb back.

"But we're Shinigami, how do you expect us to go to human shrinks?" Grell shouted righteously enraged, "No, no, no this is preposterous!"

"Stop your whining Grell Sutcliff, it's a new office policy and we will comply with it!"

"But I don't see anyone else having to go!" Grell fought his pale skin tingeing crimson with his exertion.

Will gave him a severe look.

"This is mad! It's just me, isn't it?"

Will adjusted the spectacles on the bridge of his nose with the hedge clipper scythe, "You think you have the freedom to act as you please, to resort to your desires and act like a blood crazed demon, if you can sink to a demon's madness then you can very well get your head sorted out by a human." This little speech was spat out with malice inspired by the Phantomhive's demon.

William reached out and grabbed Grell by the scruff, "You will go because I say so." The red head was released and the senior Shinigami disappeared. The others in the office averted their eyes with the exception of the older members who were accustomed to their behavior. Grell was left heady and giddy with the feeling of Will's hand lingering on the skin of his neck where the knuckles grazed – _Will's hand._ His heart raced and Grell, the murderous ripper of the 1600s melted like ice cream out in the sun.

"Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll! Coooooooooooooooooome baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!" Grell squealed, "Wiiiiiiiiiiiil my love!"

His mobile gave a jangle, and he swiped the screen, "Don't be tardy. Appointment's at seven exact. Don't make me angry Grell."

Grell forgot about his indignation completely with this small boon from his officious love.

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Grell stirred angrily, he was such a sucker for a good looking man. A tall looker in a suit, a stern man, a bad man, someone with attitude. Someone like his old flame Sebastian! Sexy Sebastian who broke his heart at every chance! What old geezer would he have to spend the evening. He rubbed his temple, leaning his slender frame forward. He should make William pay for this, tie him up and flay him. Oh, bad thoughts! Bad indeed. Grell grinned and begged the God's to forgive him for his slight transgression.

He really hoped he could maybe kill this old geezer - just this once.


	2. Two's Company

** The next chapter is here. And it's my unlikely Black Butler/ Hannibal cross over. Why not? Grell is vain, Hannibal is vain. And Grell is the ultimate fan of other immaculate demons so there, they fit! Suggestions are always welcomed.**

**I do not own Kuroshitsuji or Hannibal. Rights belong to respective owners, Yana Toboso and Bryan Fuller.**

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Grell inclined his head as the door swung open from his seated position. A man in a three piece suit was beckoning him. He had been so deep in his rivalries that at first he just stared at the image as if it were a projection.

The man felt bright lime green eyes stare through him, "Ahem, you're Grell Sutcliff? My seven oh clock?"

Grell nodded, head still tilted.

This man was not an old geezer. Older, yes, in terms of human years – not beautiful in any conventional way nor in the way that Sebastian or William was beautiful but silently striking. His features were not especially harmonious but they blended well to present an interesting and even handsome façade – something very subtly startling but hard to pin down. His eyes were deep set, small and brown to the point of being almost maroon. His cheek bones were cute from stone and high in the structure of his face. The jaw was sharp, and the nose not long.

He had a curious mouth, one that looked like it was in a pout, the upper lip jutting out in a languid curl.

He beckoned again amiable, "Come in."

Hannibal noted the thin line, slender of his new patient's body and the Eurasian cast to his face, clearly Japanese. He noted the far away look in those gleamy eyes, a look that sharpened on him in a quick shift but imperceptible.

"Are you going to dally Mr. Sutcliff?" He asked lightly.

Grell jumped with cat like grace and strode in first, seeing the leather seat, he collapsed into it and folded his long legs. Hannibal said nothing, walking in and taking his place opposite the red head. Grell has made his blood red hair short reminiscent of his academy days. He looked very respectable in a red sweater vest and a crisp white shirt, and brown dress slacks.

"Ah! This is gorgeous; the décor is to _die_ for!" Grell leaned in forward suddenly, eyes dilating with pleasure. The new client certainly had a feministic charm and Hannibal smiled graciously reciprocating the compliment.

"It's all imported." It was an expansive, all encompassing curve of his gorgeous mouth, yes gorgeous Grell decided. It was also a statement. It spoke of decadence, power and prestige. The cobalt and leather and dark wood stained furniture were raw, and masculine, not wilting and very unforgiving.

"It's very _tres bien_!" Grell exclaimed.

The floor shone to a high polished sheen with a navy carpet throw. It formed a neat square where they sitting.

"Grell Sutcliff, I presume," Hannibal's eyes laughed, a late kind of joke.

Grell licked his lips, "The one and only."

"My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter and I hope we can have a productive relationship together." The serene face took on the aspect of an angel.

"Please take care of me well."

He stroked the arm of the chair lazily.

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**Leave a review, reviews are free! Tell me what you think? Good or bad!**


	3. Tete a Tete

**Hello again, so I obsessed over this chapter for a while because I wanted to portray them both accurately and believably but still keep Grell more serious and level headed(well enough) to prevent him from slipping into the silly comedic relief they tend to turn him into. Sorry, no silly Grell this time round. This is mature Grell with out the heaps of masochism thrown in. **

**So enjoy.**

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The night outside was cool, and Hannibal's office was just slightly warm. Both the men were sitting and engaged in a staring contest, to see who would speak first. The office was comfortably quiet, and they were comfortably at ease. The older man had a calm aura despite his sharp edges. Cool, underlying his keen senses. Grell peered at him from his glasses then removed them to watch the man disappear into a blur then replaced them. He cracked an inappropriately big smile, and his teeth struck Hannibal as a bit sharper than usual human teeth. A little more than a bit and he wondered if his patient had them filed down – It could indicate a case of body dismorphic disorder. Filing teeth was barely considered normal- that extent of filing would traumatic if not dangerous. He looked for more signs of that possibility. Surely, his hair could not be that red

Grell's spectacle holder was a chain of round, polished black beads and carved skulls. He could easily imagine that the red head opposite was a punk. The things that kept the wise Doctor from coming to that conclusion were Grell's charming manners, cheeky flashes of teeth and felinity.

And the fact that he tended to refer to himself as a woman.

Often times constantly

_"A girl never likes when her gentleman is late to pick her up." Grell tuts_

_"Are you a woman Grell?" A sly, yet obvious question_

_"I'm whatever I want to be Doctor, whenever I want to be." An obvious yet evasive answer_

Today they waited and the clock ticked-ticked. Time was never a problem with them. The hour would suffice. And they would fence a little, talk a little and try to ply into each other. Grell was fighting a losing battle on that one. The man kept a tight lid on his life and anything to do with him– there was an interesting aroma about the man, and Grell could sniff all he wanted but not taste. There just wasn't anything to take a_ bite_ out of. Grell threw his head back, the bangs of fast growing hair tilting off his pale forehead.

"What would you like to talk about today Grell? Have you tried the meditation I recommended?"

"I did, it was boring – I started seeing cats and a certain brat I don't like." Grell's cheek twitched.

Silence pervaded again

A surprised wind whipped up outside the only window in the office, glancing off the side and it caught both their attentions at the same time. The window was a portal of natural, amethyst light. Clouds were gathering outside.

"An east wind is blowing." Grell swallowed his observation lazily like candy, "Maybe a storm is brewing?"

"It's not unusual around this time – the lightening storms are quite spectacular to watch."

"Ah! Deadly light does it come from the angels or the Gods?" Grell got up to stare wistfully out the window into the pale twilight, "Do you know what I did to end up here?"

"Would you like to tell me Grell?"

"I like you, you're voice is reassuring." Grell became silent, deflated, "I feel like you actually appreciate me."

"You know I am here for you." Hannibal remained seated. Grell appreciated that too, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it. He twirled, his red coat moving with him. It had been at the tailors being repaired and now he had it back like an old friend, his best piece of clothes. The coat he got from Madame Red after he righteously ended her – it looked better on him anyway. He was attached to it because of that sentiment and because it was in his eyes, a rare, pure hue of red. One he hadn't seen since.

"My best friend stopped me from killing my girl friend."


	4. Cherry filled Chocolates

**Hello again, two chapters in a night. I must be on a roll, here is a third person account of Grell's indiscretion. Spoilers for Kuroshitsuji season one. Seriously get out if you don't know who Grell really is.**

**No ones ever seen Grell act this psychopathic and manipulating since Madame Red and the Ripper Case.**

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A few weeks ago…

She caught my eye, a lonely angry figure as I reaped the soul of her best friend. She was crying, and wailing, screaming. She was just about to confess when I grabbed her, wrapping a hand over her mouth. Her face reddened and she bit into my hand. I tightened my hand over her mouth until she was light headed and the blood drained from her face. Then I released my grip. Ah, the blood flowed back into her face like it was blooming. She took a step away from me and swayed. I grabbed her by the waist tight and breathed into her neck.

"You would confess to killing your tramp of a friend?"

She nodded in the septic white of the hospital room, body strung tight. Everyone who was related to the dead girl was far away, tucked away in their homes, asleep. The girl and her apologetic murderer – the notion made for a bloody Valentine's poem. I sighed again and she heated.

"I … I didn't mean to kill her," her voice was still but quaking at the same time. I wrapped my other hand around her shoulders, nuzzled her neck.

"Don't...shh!" I soothed, the waves of pity came off her, thick enough to comb through. I brushed her hair.

"She was my best friend, she should have known." She relaxed against me.

"She did…she knew."

"I hate her, I'm glad she's dead." The statement was music to my ears – the satiation of the righteous.

"Good girl, I crooned.

It was love, and I swirled around with it in my head and excitement. So much passion, so much life, so much to look forward to!

"A gift for Grell! A gift for me!" I sang, "I love you! _Watashi anatawa."_

The other workers and Shinigami gave me dirty looks as I swanned around happily swinging my chain saw to a lovely dance in my head. Ashley proved to be bright, sensitive, passionate and completely taken with me. After all, I am her savior; I consoled her and assured her of her purity. She had started a mission to cleanse her life of the useless, the hampering and the unrighteous. And I would be by her side, molding her into the shape of my desires while fulfilling hers.

William looked at me very uneasily today, like he suspects that I am in love. Let him speculate all he wants. Let him stew and become jealous. Maybe he will appreciate me more tomorrow.

I meet my new Beau at a café and I hand her chocolates with red centers of cherry filling. They melt and slide over our tongues. I thrilled at the taste and fed her more. She and I are lovers of every word. I have never tried it like this before - to be the stronger sex this time around, tucking my womanly wiles away- to find that this kind of thing isn't bad at all. It's rather refreshing. Madame Red came to me fully hatched with her vengeance and plan in place so all I got to do was help and play the cowardly butler. Where was the fun in that? I was an obsessed idiot yet it was a really good time, I met Sebastian after all - and his brat.

The brat must be long dead – Sebastian somewhere in hell waiting for another soul to seal away for his supper.

That night was a Friday and Ashley had the knife to the boy's neck - the one who led her on and cheated on her with her best friend - the one who wouldn't love her, I urged her on steadily anticipating the shower of crimson that would get on her hands. The boy was shivering and dropping his words like fragile glasses, and they were breaking into shards of broken sound.

"Please don't!"

"You never loved me! I loved you so much. But you loved her, everything WAS HER!"

The boy flinched from her words, "I'm sorry!"

Ah, the love of the dire!

She stabbed him, and the wound blossomed with blood. He gasped in pain and shock and clutched his abdomen, "Please…. What is going on! You can't kill me! You can't….not…"

The next wound was delivered.

The boy scrambled at the floor, smearing blood all over. She took a look at him, at his face draining of colour - the life to which he was in danger of losing. And she hesitated - just for one moment. The thoughts rolled up her eyes, doubt, realization and memory. She unraveled from the yawn that I so lovingly knitted for her. The The passion drained away from her, and she collapsed.

"I … I … what's wrong with me!"

I held on to her shoulders, "Do it for me! Be strong, soar high for me!" She trembled, fear and weakness tumbling down like her waves of dark hair did.

I was close now, the madness bubbling over now. I did not set this up to have it crumble like a deck of cards.

"DO IT!"

But it was too late. She had lost her salvation.

"I can't do it! You, you're…." Her words failed.

My mouth was suddenly cat like, sharp, the jig was up. I pulled out my chain saw with a flourish and it rumbled. The blade positioned to make its righteous arc.

"The blood will cleanse you." I sermonize in one sentence, "The beautiful red-"

Bam, and there it is… the end - my Will standing with the blade of my chain saw death scythe in the clipper jaws of his.

"Grell Sutcliff that will be enough!" His clipper death scythe flashed at me and I side stepped it this time. The second time it hit me in the face.

"NOT THE FACE!" I scream.

The gripped let go suddenly. Will and I face each other. His disappointment in me was masked by his great annoyance. He was livid in that officious way of his. A twitch worked in his forehead.

"He isn't on the list Grell Sutcliff! Nor is your _girl friend_ for that matter," Will never does scream but his voice booms never the less.

"But he's not dead yet. And _that_ girl hasn't a scratch on her!" I argue, and then realization blooms in my head. Late because that's what I'm known for – being late.

I huff haughtily, "You followed me!"

He adjusted his glasses guiltily and the hedge clipper shot out at my face again.

"Not the face!" I screamed, and then protested while being dragged home.

Well that was fun while it lasted.

Ah!

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**Part of me hated writing this, because I'm not writing this entirely in the Kuroshitsuji universe, and the Hannibal universe tends to be so serious in atmosphere. And because once I started it, I realized that someone was going to have a delusional reason for vengeance for our Shinigami to be attracted too and exploit. And I hate doing the cliched 'kill the best friend who stole my boyfriend from me' trope but it was easy and made enough sense. **

**But if that irks you like it does me, no worries. I have plans to fix that. Stick around.**

**and leave a review **


	5. Self Justice

"You sound like you're leaving things out Grell," Hannibal commented.

"No one ever tells a story completely straight Doctor! Where's the creativity in that?" Grell's rhetoric chaffed the Doctor mildly.

"I can't help you unless you tell me the truth." Hannibal scolded gently.

"The truth is I wanted to kill her because of her stupidity."

The Doctor suppressed a small smile of familiarity with the notion.

"I thought she was strong, I thought she had it in her to do what had to be done but I was wrong." Grell sounded wronged as he sighed, "Love was never so sour on my palate."

"Love can be like that sometime Grell - it doesn't mean we resort to self justice to fix it."

"And a girl must bare her heart breaks with patience, isn't that so?"

The Doctor looked at Grell's mouth and noticed that the teeth weren't as sharp as he perceived.

He tilted his head a fraction up, locating the round faced clock on the eastern wall, discreet and out of the line of sight of patients who were seated in the stuffed chair, "Time's up. We've made some progress Grell. Consider not giving up the meditation as yet. See you next appointment." He showed Grell to the door.

Grell stepped past a scruffy brunette with a swish of his red coat.

The scruffy brunette gazed at him with a puzzled almost dazed air.

"Will, come in!" Hannibal greeted Will Graham warmly, "It's good to see you."

Will was still distracted by the red headed, effeminate man he had glimpsed.

Hannibal herded Will into his office.

Will looked out the door and back at Hannibal, "Did someone just leave here?"

"Yes, of course - A patient Will."

"A red head with a red coat?" Will asked again.

"Yes, why do you ask Will?" He looked concernedly at his friend.

"I'm not seeing things," The young FBI consultant was relieved. Then he mused for a moment, "I asked because he doesn't seem real, he's very Technicolor, very flawless. No scars."

"He must be very careful to not injure himself."

"Yes, that must be it." The self deprecation was not missed from the statement.

Hannibal was suddenly keen, "What else did you see Will?"

Will rubbed his face and shifted his weight slightly. He stretched himself as if it were an effort to go on.

"He's someone with transgender issues. He sees weakness as a sin. He doesn't conform. He's also very isolated and lonely.

And he's righteous…

And he might be a psychopath."

There was a pause.

"I said might be… I could be wrong… that was a person and not a crime scene. Crime scenes are easier to extrapolate. They are honest. A crime scene can't hide the truth."

"Will, I might need you're help." Hannibal requested. Will was wrong, people can't hide. At least not from him.


End file.
